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Tazriah/Metzorah 5778: The Lesson of Forgiveness

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“God spoke to Moshe and Aharon saying, ‘If a man has on the skin of his body a white blotch or a bright spot …. The Priest shall pronounce him ritually impure, for this discoloration is Tzaraas.’”  (Vayikra 13:1-6)

It was a gift. Not the type of gift that makes you feel loved and appreciated; but the kind of gift that opens your eyes and heart to the realities of life. This was the gift of Tzaraas- loosely translated as leprosy. Tzaraas was a physical manifestation of a spiritual malady. The Talmud explains that if one spoke Lashon Hara– slander against another- they would be stricken with a strange skin disease. One would have to appear before the kohen– priest- to have the discoloration or blotch examined. If the spot met certain criteria, the kohen would declare the individual tamei- ritually impure. The afflicted individual would then be exiled and sent out from the community. His punishment was middah k’neged middah– reciprocal in nature. He sought to isolate another through negative and slanderous speech and therefore, we punish him in kind by isolating him from the community. Yet, despite the difficulties this punishment brought upon the sinner, it was a gift. It was through this sickness that the sinner was made aware of his negative and deleterious behavior. It was through Tzaraas that the slanderer was given an opportunity to fix himself and right his wrongs. During the days of isolation the sinner was able to reflect on his behavior and begin to take the necessary substantive, rehabilitative steps.

The Torah then proceeds to discuss the purification process. “This shall be the law of the person afflicted with tzaraas, on the day of his cleansing: He shall be brought to the kohen.” (Vayikra 14:2) Yet, the very next verse reads, “The kohen shall go outside the camp, and the kohen shall look, and behold, the lesion of tzaraas has healed in the afflicted person.” (Vayikra 14:3) At first glance it appears the verses are contradicting one another. Is the Metzorah-person afflicted with Tzaraas- brought to the Kohen? Or is the Kohen brought to the Metzorah?

The answer is, both. As a result of his behavior the Metzorah was rejected by the community. The verse states, “All the days the lesion is upon him, he shall remain unclean. He is unclean; he shall dwell isolated; his dwelling shall be outside the camp.” (Vayikra 13:46) The Talmud explains that even others who were themselves ritually impure had to avoid contact with the Metzorah. He was away from his family, distanced from his community, cut-off from his people. All this was to impress upon him the severity of his action. “You created a distance between one man and his fellow, therefore, you must sit alone outside the camp.” (Arachin 16b) The Metzorah was taught a harsh, yet profound lesson: there is no room within the camp and community for those who sow the seeds of hatred and animosity within our ranks. But along with this lesson came a fear – a fear that this feeling of rejection would forever isolate the Metzorah and make him think that he could never reintegrate. In fact, the Midrash comments, “And he shall be brought to the Kohen; on the day that he becomes pure he should not delay … even if we must bring him against his will.” Could we imagine a scenario in which the Metzorah was reticent to return for his purification process? Would he not want to be reunited with his family? Would he not yearn to resume his normal life? Yet, the Torah tells us that this concern does in fact exist. He may not want to come back. Why? Because the Metzorah may say, “Look what I have done to myself. Look how I have sullied my soul and reputation. I have hurt others and how will they every forgive me? I have fractured relationships, caused heart-break. I don’t think I can ever go back.” 

The Torah tells us: on the day he is to be purified he should come to the Kohen on his own. He has paid the price for his negative behavior, he has repented, learned his lesson and will hopefully be more vigilant in his inter-personal conduct. But God tells the Kohen, “If you see he is not showing up, go get him. Run to him, embrace him, bring him back, tell him we, the community, love, care and forgive him. Make him feel wanted. Remind him that we do get second chances.”

There are times when people wrong and hurt us. Often, because of the emotional pain endured, we want nothing to do with the person who hurt us. Truth be told, after a difficult or hurtful interaction, a little distance (sometimes for a long time) is what is needed to heal the wounds and rebuild the self. But we must learn from the Metzorah the need to give second (third, fourth …) chances. We must remember that if the person who harmed us is truly penitent, understands what he has done and has demonstrated a desire to do things differently going forward, we must leave our hearts and doors open to reconciliation. People aren’t perfect and we must allow those around us to find their interpersonal redemption in the aftermath of relationship failure. But there is another lesson as well. We must learn to forgive ourselves. We all make mistakes. There are some who carry the pain of their mistakes with them every moment of every day. There are people who cannot let go of the pain of personal failure.  The laws of Tzaraas teach us that we must forgive the other; but we must also learn to forgive ourselves.

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Shmini 5778: Carrying the Nation

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– Dedicated in loving memory of Sholom Elazar z’l ben Rav Elimelech Bentzion

And Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu, each took his pan, put fire in them, and placed incense upon it, and they brought before the Lord foreign fire, which He had not commanded them. And fire went forth from before the Lord and consumed them, and they died before the Lord. Then Moses said to Aaron, “This is what the Lord spoke, [when He said], ‘I will be sanctified through those near to Me, and before all the people I will be glorified.’ And Aaron was silent (Vayikra 10:1-3).”

It was to be a day of rejuvenation and reconciliation.  The dedication of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) symbolized the return of the Divine Presence to the camp of the Jewish nation (after the separation caused by the sin of the Golden Calf).  But alas, it was not to be.  The death of Aharon’s two sons transformed this day of joy into a day of pain, grief and loss.  But was their sin?  What was the nature of their “foreign fire?”

The commentaries provide many different interpretations and insights.  The Talmud (Eruvin 63a) explains that Nadav and Avihu decided on matters of Jewish law in the presence of their teachers, Moshe and Aharon.  This fundamental lack of respect and breakdown of authority led to their deaths.  Others explain they were inebriated when serving in the Mishkan.  The Midrash writes that Nadav and Avihu ventured into the Kodesh HaKodashim, the Holy of Holies and were punished as a result.  Other rabbinic commentaries explain that they took fire from outside the confines of the Temple to offer the incense instead of taking from the Divine fire that descended from the Heavens.

Perhaps, there is another insight into their sin which can be gleaned from the Haggadah.  In the beginning of the Seder we recite Ha Lachma Anya, this is the bread of affliction.

This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry, come and eat. Let all who are needy, come and celebrate Passover (partake of the Paschal lamb). This year we are here – next year, may we be in the Land of Israel. This year we are slaves – next year, may we be free.

Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau (former Chief Rabbi of the State of Israel, current Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv) provides a beautiful insight into this paragraph by sharing a moving story.  During his tenure as Chief Rabbi, Rabbi Lau was conducting a communal Seder on an air force base.  There were over 1,000 people in attendance from all walks of life.  Rabbi Lau began the Seder with reading and translating Ha Lachma Anya.  As he concluded, a young pilot stood up and said, “Rabbi, I feel these words, this text – has lost its meaning.  Why should we say this year we are here, next year may we be in the Land of Israel?  I was born here, I am a sabra.  Why would I say, this year we are slaves, next year may we be free?  I was born free and I have always been free? 

Rabbi Lau provided a dramatic and beautiful answer:  “In my youth I had the privilege to study under many great teachers. Great men like, Rav Elazar Man Shach, Rabbi Eliyahu Lopian, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and I was privileged to spend Yom Kippur with each of them.  I stood next to these great men as they recited the Al Cheyts (list of sins for which we repent on Yom Kippur); I heard their muffled cries and saw the tears stream down their face. I often wondered – did these great rabbis commit these heinous acts which they were confessing?  It couldn’t be.  Even “regular” people don’t commit half of the sins outlined in the list.  Why would these great rabbis confess sins they had not committed?  Truthfully, the Baal Shem Tov also beat his chest while confessing this list, the Vilna Gaon cried out when enumerating these sins.  Surely, these giants of our past had not committed these transgressions!  And then it dawned on me.  These great rabbis were not confessing their sins – they were confessing and seeking forgiveness for sins of the nation.  These great men realized that although they had not committed these aggrieved acts – there were Jews who did.  Perhaps, those Jews would not or could not confess and repent.  These holy rabbis decided that we will do teshuva (repentance) on their behalf.  We will cry their tears, we will utter their apologies, we will beg for their forgiveness.  I realized that the true mark of greatness is the ability to think beyond one’s self and to connect to the plight, circumstances and reality of the other.”

Rabbi Lau then turned to the young pilot and said: “You are truly privileged to be here and free.  But what about all your brothers and sisters who are not?  What about your fellow Jews who are suffering and enduring persecution?  What about those who are not able to celebrate Pesach either because they don’t have or they don’t know?  You may be here – but they are not.  You may be free – but they are not.  Let us be their mouthpiece.  Let us utter these words on their behalf.  Let us ask Hashem on this sacred night to bring all of those who are there – here.  Let us supplicate before God and beg Him to allow all of those who are slaves to taste the sweetness of freedom.”

Perhaps, this was the mistake of Nadav and Avihu.  If one looks closely at the verse – it says, V’Yikchu Bnei Aharon, Nadav V’Avihu Ish Machtaso, And Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu, each took his pan.  The Torah goes out of its way to state “Ish, each man” and “Machtaso, his pan” (possessive); identifying Nadav and Avihu as individuals.  The job of the Kohen is to represent the nation; the mandate of the Kohen is to be the embodiment of the collective.  Perhaps, the mistake of Nadav and Avihu was that they acted as individuals.  What they did was to satisfy their own needs and wants.  They served God the way they deemed fit without regard for the needs of the collective.  They were not acting as the emissaries of the Jewish people – they were each an Ish, an individual.  When we stop thinking about the collective and only think about ourselves –we end up making terrible mistakes.

This Shabbos we will IYH announce the arrival of month of Iyar.  We have begun the Sefira count towards the Yom Tov of Shavuos.  It is during this time of year that we focus on our personal growth the development.  We ready and prepare ourselves to reexperience the upcoming Sinaitic revelation.  Proper preparation cannot be limited to a focus on the self.  Holy preparation requires a recognition that we are we are part of a greater collective called, Am Yisroel.  On Pesach we became a nation and it is during these days that we must focus on how to be a nation.   Being part of Am Yisroel means feeling a sense of responsibility for the other.  It means recognizing that even if everything is ok in my life – there are others who are struggling and hurting and it is my responsibility to find some way to help.  It is easy to become spiritually self-centered, but we know that true growth and spiritual self-actualization comes about when you carry the entire nation of Israel in your heart and in your soul.

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Beginning & Ending: Reflections on the Haggadah

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At first glance, the Haggadah appears to be a collection of random verses, stories and statements. However, upon further reflection we come to understand the intentional yet, nuanced structure of this ancient script. The Talmud (Pesachim 115) explains Maschil B’Genus U’Misayeym B’Shevach, we begin with degradation and conclude with praise. We begin the Seder by discussing the “low points” or disparaging chapters of our national existence. The sages disagree as to which “low point” we should begin with. Shmuel explains that we begin with, “Avadim Hayinu, we were slaves.” We acknowledge that we did not begin as a nation of free men and women. We were slaves who served a human master. Rav opines, “Mitchila Ovdei Avoda Zara Hayu Avoseinu, in the beginning our forefathers were idolaters.” We were not always monotheists, we did not always pledge our allegiance to God, we served and paid homage to other gods. According to Shmuel, over the course of the Pesach Seder we work our way to celebrating our physical freedom. According Rav, the Seder is the opportunity to celebrate our newfound spiritual emancipation. Rav and Shmuel may disagree on the specific beginning and end points but do agree on the structure of the Seder night; Maschil B’Genus U’Misayeym B’Shevach, we begin with degradation and conclude with praise.

What is the meaning of this rabbinic framework? Why must we start with the negative or disparaging chapters of our national existence? Why not begin and end with our freedom, emancipation and positive identity as the nation of God?

The commentaries on the Haggadah share many approaches and answers. The Malbim (Rabbi Meir Leibush, 1809-1879) explains that the best way to make a dramatic point is through contrast. One appreciates light when one has been exposed to darkness. In order to fully appreciate the freedom granted to us on this sacred night, we must first acquaint ourselves with servitude. In order to feel physically free, we must spend time reminiscing, Avadaim Hayinu L’Pharoah B’Mitzrayim, we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Only after we engage in historical reflection and taste some of the bitter marror, can we truly thank God for redeeming us. In order to fully celebrate our spiritual emancipation, we must reflect what it was like to be a spiritual wanderer, not knowing what to believe or how to connect. Mitchila Ovdei Avoda Zara Hayu Avoseinu, in the beginning our forefathers were idolaters. Only when we remember our past can we truly appreciate our future.

The great Maggid of Kohznitz (Rav Yisroel Hopstein, 1737-1814) provides another beautiful insight. The Maggid explains that the greatest danger we face in life is believing we are beyond salvation. A person may think to himself, “I have done so many terrible things, I have tarnished my soul, I have sullied my reputation, I have failed to actualize my potential; what hope is there for me?” Maschil B’Genus, even if the beginning is degrading, even if the beginning is stunted and handicapped, Misayeym B’Shevach, I choose how the story ends, I can change, I can live better, do better and create a beautiful future. We were slaves, we were more animal than man, we were viewed by others and we viewed ourselves as cattel and property. And yet, look at us now; we are a strong and free people. We were idolaters, spiritually bankrupt and estranged from God and yet, we managed to find our way home. We lifted ourselves from serving the creations of our hands to serving the King of Kings. We cannot always rewrite the past but we can absolutely decide how to script our future.

Perhaps, there is a third lesson as well. Life requires patience. Events occur and we search for answers. Situations unfold and we try desperately to understand their deeper meaning. We want insight and clarity and we want it now. Clarity will come but it often requires the passage of time. Maschil B’Genus U’Misayeym B’Shevach, we begin with degradation and conclude with praise, the difficult life situations will have a positive resolution (not necessarily the resolution we desire, but positive nevertheless). However, just as it takes time to reach the Shevach (praise) contained within the Haggadah; it takes time to see our personal praise and resolution as well. It will come, but we must be patient.

Maschil B’Genus U’Misayeym B’Shevach, we begin with degradation and conclude with praise; the rabbis were not simply giving us a format for the Haggadah, they were providing us with a format for life. To actualize our freedom and maximize our ability to shape our personal and national destiny we must internalize the messages of the Haggadah. We must remember that while building our future; we must reflect on the events and messages of our past. No matter how far we have wandered, no matter how estranged we have become from God, ourselves and one another, no person is beyond salvation. We must bear in mind that resolution, understanding and happiness will come to those who are patient enough to wait.

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Tzav 5778: Thank You

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 “And the flesh of his thanksgiving peace offering shall be eaten on the day it is offered up; he shall not leave any of it over until morning” (Vayikra 7:15).

Among the various sacrificial details contained in this week’s Parsha, the Torah teaches us the laws of the Korban Todah, the thanksgiving offering. This offering was brought when a person was saved from a life-threatening or inherently dangerous situation. It was a sacrificial rite which enabled the individual to thank God for deliverance and salvation.

The Imrei Emes (Rav Avraham Mordechai Alter of Gur, 1866-1948) raises a fascinating question.  Every korban, sacrificial offering has a consumption window. One was permitted to eat the sacrifice for a certain amount of time. After that permitted time has elapsed, the korban becomes nossar, left over and prohibited. Most of the sacrificial offerings were consumed for two days and one night. Yet, the Korban Todah can only be consumed for one day. This is especially intriguing given the fact the Todah was a very large offering comprised of multiple loaves. Why did the Torah allow a shorter time for consumption?

The Rebbe provides a beautiful insight: “Korban Todah, mi’viin oso al ha’nes, v’harey b’chol yom va’yom misrachashin itanu nissim chadoshim. V’eych yochlu mi’nes shel emesh al neys shel ha’yom. The thanksgiving offering is brought for a miracle (which God has performed for the individual). Each and every day God performs new miracles for us. How can we eat and celebrate yesterday’s miracle, when we have to celebrate today’s miracle?”

We experience miracles every day. Sometimes, they are supernatural but more often they are cloaked in the ordinary and mundane circumstances of daily living. Our job is to discern the miraculous events which surround us. One can only eat of the Korban Todah for one day (the day on which it is offered), for tomorrow we must not focus on the miracles of yesterday, but devote ourselves to seeing and discerning the miracles of today.

We are in the midst of the month of Nissan, a month of incredible miraculous activity. There were plagues, manna from the heavens, a well which followed us during our sojourn in the desert and a variety of other jaw-dropping feats from Above. We might not have seen these great miracles, but we do have a front row seat for the miracles which occur for us every day. We opened our eyes, flexed our fingers, stood on our own two feet. We can speak, are able to think and able to take care of our bodily needs. We have warm coats, shoes without holes and full stomachs. There is some money in our wallets and parents who love us. There is a roof over our heads and clothing in our closets. Are these events any less miraculous than the splitting of the sea? Truth be told, we each should have to bring a Korban Todah each and every day, to thank God for the incredible miracles He has bestowed upon us. Every day generates its own distinct Todah obligation. We have the obligation to actively look for my daily miracles. We must carve our time to contemplate the incredible blessings and events which unfold around us every day.

We don’t yet have the opportunity to bring an actual Korban, sacrifice, so we must do the next best thing; offer our thanks with our words. Take the time to say, “thank you Hashem, for all of the miracles. I know that I often focus on what I lack and what is deficient and broken. But I want You to know, if I could, I would bring you a Korban Todah every day. That day will come, but until then I give you one simple word, Todah; thank for the miracles of my past, thank You for the miracles of my present and I thank You in advance for the miracles which have yet to unfold.”  

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Vayikra 5778: The Beauty of Failure

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Alexander Pope wrote, “To err is human; to forgive, divine.” From the moment we are first introduced to Adam in the beginning of Genesis it is clear that man is prone to falling and failing. In this week’s Parsha, the Torah begins the lengthy section detailing sacrificial law. There are offerings brought for thanksgiving and celebration and there are offerings brought for atonement in the aftermath of sin. There are sacrifices for the mistakes of the common man and there are special sacrificial rites for the sins of the leader.

“If a leader [of Israel] sins and unintentionally commits one of all the commandments of the Lord, which may not be committed, incurring guilt; if his sin that he has committed is made known to him, then he shall bring his offering: an unblemished male goat.” (Vayikra 4:22).

In this verse the Torah describes the events that occur if the Nasi, the leader of the Jewish people, inadvertently issues an erroneous halachik ruling (permitting that which is prohibited) and acts upon his own ruling (thereby committing a sin). The verses describe the special sacrificial service to atone for his transgression.

The verse begins with the Hebrew word Ashrei translated as “if.” In a bit of a play on words, the Talmud (Horiyos 10b) explains: “Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai said:  Praiseworthy (Ashrei) is the generation whose leader brings a sin-offering for his inadvertent transgression.”

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai teaches us that it can be difficult for one in a leadership position to admit he has done something wrong. The leader may be concerned about his image, about his ability to “lead” in the aftermath of an admission of guilt. And so, praiseworthy is the leader who is able to admit his faults, seek atonement and attempt to restore his spiritual standing.

But shouldn’t the Talmud have reserved its praise for the leader who has not sinned at all? Shouldn’t Rabbi Yochanan save his Ashrei accolade for the leader who does not suffer a spiritual lapse? Such a leader can serve as incredible role model for his constituents and followers. “If our leader can remain above temptation, if our leader can avoid the spiritual and physical pitfalls of life, we can as well.” Why not laud the Nasi who never suffered the set-back rather than the praising the one who did?

Rav Menachem Dovid of Amshinov (1850-1918) explains that in fact the reverse is true. A leader who has not suffered personal failure will be unable to forgive the shortcomings of another. A leader who has never tasted the bitterness of personal defeat will not appreciate the struggles of those he must lead. The leader who always succeeds will look at those who do not with a sense of disdain and resentment. Therefore, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai says, “Praiseworthy is the generation whose leader has stumbled, for this is a leader who will understand, appreciate and empathize with the difficulties his flock must face.”

The words of the Amshinover resonate with incredible personal relevance. We all stumble, fall and suffer set-backs along the journey of life. Each of us (in our own unique way) has tasted the bitterness of defeat and has felt the pain of self-doubt. These experiences must sensitize and allow us to be accepting of the faults and shortcomings of the other. It is precisely because we know how frail we are that we must accept the frailties of those around us. In the aftermath of personal failure, we must learn to forgive ourselves in order to get up, move forward and make up lost ground. When we see the failures of others, we must forgive, understand and aid them in getting back up. It is because we know how much we yearn to be forgiven for our transgressions that we must be quick to dispense forgiveness to those who wrong us.

 “Praiseworthy is the generation whose members recognize their own failures and are able to forgive and accept the shortcomings of others.”

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Vayakhel Pikudei 5778: Gold Inside and Out

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Numerous Parshios are devoted to the creation and fabrication of the Mishkan and its utensils. The details contained in these Torah portions are not simply the architectural framework for this sacred space and its vessels; these details contain the roadmap for successful, enriched and meaningful living.

 Betzalel made the Ark of acacia wood, two and a half cubits long, a cubit and a half wide, and a cubit and a half high. And he overlaid it with pure gold from inside and from outside, and he made for it a golden crown all around.” (Exodus 37:1-2)

The Talmud (Yerushalmi Shekalim 6:1) explains that the Ark was unique in its construction. It was comprised of three separate boxes. The innermost box was made of gold, the larger one which held it (the inner one) was made of wood and the largest exterior box (which held the smaller two) was made of gold. This construction was quite unique. There were utensils made of solid gold and others made of wood coated with gold. Why did the Aron (Ark) have this unique construction of wood enveloped by gold?

The Baal Shem Tov (1698-1760) explains that the Aron was supposed to represent paradigmatic man. Every aspect and detail of the Ark teaches us how to self-actualize and live a meaningful and successful life. The male and female Cherubim (angelic figures perched on the lid of the Ark) teach us to be passionate in our relationships with each other and with God. Their upstretched wings teach us that we must aspire to climb higher and accomplish more. The Luchos (tablets) resting in the center remind us that the Torah and its values must be the foundation, core and center of the decisions we make and things we do. The poles that remained inserted even when the Aron was at rest teach us that the Torah and its values are transplantable and must follow us and inform the way we live – wherever we may go.

While both wood and gold can be used for construction their properties are fundamentally different. Gold is inanimate; it is mined from the earth and can be manipulated but cannot grow and cannot change. Wood is alive. The tree takes in nutrients; its branches grow and bear fruit.The tree changes with the seasons and through the years. The Aron contains both of these materials to teach another very important lesson. Man must be gold and he must be wood. He must possess golden principles that he will stand by and stand up for no matter what. We must possess a sense of right and good and be able to maintain them no matter how much external pressure we may face. We must be rigid in our adherence to the tenets of our faith and the principles of our people. We must have gold-like, immutable resolve to uphold the ideas and ideals we hold to be sacred.  Yet, we must also learn to be a tree, to be wood-like in our approach to life and others. We must learn the art of change and recognize that just because we each have been a certain way until now does not meanweI must continue to be that same person going forward. We must learn to adapt to new circumstances. Life doesn’t always go the way we plan or hope, but wecan be wood, we can grow, change, and adapt. Wood is pliable. We must learn that when dealing with others we cannot always stand our ground,  but must learn when to yield for the sake of shalom (peace).

Man must be gold on his inside and his outside. We must have the principles, ideas and ideals that we will live and die for.  We must know what we believe and stand ready to defend those beliefs no matter how fierce the opposition may be. But we must possess an inner layer of wood and learn the art of compromise, change, accommodation and collaboration. The Ark is only fit for service in the Temple if it has these multiple layers. Man can only be successful if he possesses them as well.

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Ki Sisa 5778: Look at the Whole Picture

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We were confused and overwhelmed. Moshe was gone for over forty days (according to our ancestors’ calculations) and the nation feared the worst. We built the Golden Calf, proclaimed it as our god and committed one of the most severe relationship trespasses in the history of our people. Hashem in His divine wrath, orders Moshe to descend the mountain. But before Moshe left, God tells him of His plan to destroy the Jewish people and begin again with Moshe. Moshe, the loving advocate of the Nation of Israel begs and pleads for Divine mercy for the fledgling Jewish nation.

 “Moses pleaded before the Lord, his God, and said: ’Why, O Lord, should Your anger be kindled against Your people whom You have brought up from the land of Egypt with great power and with a strong hand?’” (Exodus 32:11)

Was Moshe really saying to God, “Why are You so angry?” Did Moshe not understand God’s anger and pain? Had Moshe somehow missed the severity of this act? How could he minimize what his beloved nation had just done? Furthermore, why does the Torah convey this exchange? What are we to learn from it? How are we to grow from this episode?

 Rabbi Moshe Alshech (born in Turkey in 1507, and died in Safed in 1593) answers this question with a simple phrase, “HaBeyt U’Reeh Mey’Heychan Ba’u, look and see from where they came.” When someone we love makes a mistake, we have two options. We can focus exclusively on the misdeed and mistake or we can take a step back and look at the person in totality, reminding ourselves of his/her positive traits and deeds. Moshe says, “Hashem, I know you are upset and I understand Your feelings of betrayal and sadness. But look how far they have come. This nation left Egypt just a few short months ago and in that short amount of time they have accomplished so much. They followed You into the desert. They followed You into the sea. They sang the magnificent words of Az Yashir with a united soul. They said Naaseh V’Nishma (we will do and we will listen) as one people with one heart. I know they messed up but don’t just look at their mistakes, look at their accomplishments as well. Don’t just dwell on their failures, be cognizant of their successes.” Moshe was not minimizing God’s pain; he was trying to frame it appropriately and put it into a proper perspective.

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov explains our obligation to be “Dan Es Kol HaAdam L’Kaf Zechus, Judge every person favorably.” We generally understand this to mean that we should try our best to give every person the benefit of the doubt. But the rabbis were asking us to do so much more. We must try to find the good in every person. We must seek out the redeeming qualities within the other, even when the other is profoundly compromised. We must condition ourselves to not only judge favorably, but to see that which is favorable within the other. The Rebbe explains that this is not only true with others. This is true with ourselves as well. We must strive to see the good we possess despite the multitude of mistakes we have made. The ability to see the good in others and the ability to see the good in myself requires one very important thing: perspective. We are able to judge both others and ourselves favorably when we are able to not only see the negative shortcomings but the beautiful qualities as well.

In Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers, Chapter 2 Mishna 13) Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai asked his students, “What is the proper path a person should choose for himself?” In other words what is the most important trait to possess? Rabbi Elazar responded, “Ayin Tova, a good eye.” Rabbeinu Yonah explains that a “good eye” refers to proper perspective. The ability to maintain proper perspective in life allows one to navigate all of life’s tumultuous circumstances and maintain relationships with all kinds of people.

It is in this gripping exchange between Moshe and God that the Torah teaches us the all-important need for proper perspective. Don’t just see the calf, see all the holiness. Don’t just see the mistakes; look at all the accomplishments. We don’t control many of the situations and circumstances in life, but we absolutely control the way we choose to look at ourselves, at others and at life.

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Titzaveh 5778: Enabling and Kindling

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“And I will make your seed like the dust of the earth, so that if a man will be able to count the dust of the earth, so will your seed be counted.” (Genesis 13:16)

It’s a question that has always bothered me: God promised Avraham that his offspring would be too numerous to count- like the stars of the sky and the dust of the earth. According to latest estimates, there are close to 15,000,000 Jews worldwide. Compare this to a total world population of 7.6 billion and we are about 0.2% of humanity. What happened to this Abrahamitic promise? Where is the actualization of this Divine commitment? Amazingly the answer can be found in this week’s Parsha.

“V’Ata Titzaveh es Bnai Yisroel, V’Yikchu Elecha Shemen Zayis Zach Kasis La’Maor L’Haalos Ner Tamid …You shall command the Children of Israel and have them bring you clear olive oil, [made from olives that were] crushed for lighting, to keep the lamp burning constantly. In the Tent of Meeting, outside the curtain, which is before the Testimony, Aharon and his sons shall arrange it [for the lamp to burn] from evening to morning before God. This is an everlasting statute for their generations of the Children of Israel.” (Exodus 27:20-21)

God commands Moshe to issue the call for pure, virgin olive oil to be used for the daily kindling of the Menorah. But why here? Moshe had already asked the people (in last week’s Parsha) to contribute the various materials necessary for the construction, fabrication and maintenance of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). Furthermore, why is the discussion about the oil inserted between the construction of the Mishkan and its utensils and the appointment of Aharon and his sons?

Rabbi Moshe Alshech (born in Turkey in 1507, and died 1593 in Tzefat, Israel) explains that Moshe was distressed. Moshe had seen the incredible generosity of the people. He asked them to contribute precious metals, fine fabric and jewels and they did so with a complete heart and a generous spirit. In fact, they were so generous that as the collection continued Moshe had to tell them to stop bringing additional materials. Moshe saw Betzalel and Ohaliav, the head craftsmen who together with their volunteers built and constructed the various utensils and structure of the Mishkan. He saw Aharon who was chosen by God to be the Kohen Gadol (High Priest) and he saw his nephews who had been chosen to serve alongside their illustrious father. Moshe saw all of this and grew despondent. “What is my role? Where is my share in this holy work?” Moshe felt left out, marginalized and unimportant. And it was in this moment of despondence and sadness that God appeared to Moshe and told him, “You are vital to the people, you are the foundation of the entire nation for you are the enabler of their growth.”

Where did this incredible national generosity come from? The people saw Moshe’s selflessness; they saw all he sacrificed for God and nation. The people said, “If Moshe could give up the trappings of a normal life and devote himself wholly to serve God, we can give of our gold, silver and jewels.” When Aharon was asked to assume the role of the High Priest he hesitated, but quickly realized he had no choice. He knew he had to assume this mantle. “If Moshe has assumed so much responsibility, I must do my part as well.”

This is the meaning of the opening verse of this week’s Parsha. God is communicating an all-important message to His beloved servant.
• “V’Ata, and you Moshe” – You must understand and appreciate how important you are.
• “V’Yikchu Eylecha Shemen Zayis Zach, and have them bring you clear olive oil” – Oil represents potential; it is the fuel capable of creating great illumination. Tell the people to come before you with their oil of potential.
• “L’Haalos Ner Tamid, to light a lamp continually” – Moshe, you are the flame; you are the one who ignites the oil of the people. You are the catalyst for their growth; you are the one who inspires them to be more and to actualize their potential.
• “V’Ata Hakrev Eylecha Es Aharon Achica V’es Banav, and you, bring near to yourself Aaron your brother, and his sons with him…” – Moshe, your brother is unsure of himself, build him up. Bring him close to you and inspire him. Whisper in his ear that you believe in him. Remind him, that if you can assume your responsibilities he can assume his. Ignite his oil and allow him to find his greatness.

It is in these simple verses that God lifts Moshe from the depths of despondence and reminds him that enabling others to find their personal greatness is the true pinnacle of human accomplishment.

God’s promise to Avraham has come true – it is just that we didn’t fully understand its profundity. God wasn’t promising Avraham, that we the Jewish people would be of such vast number. He was foreshadowing the great reach of Avraham’s influence. “Avraham, your offspring are the people whom you inspire to be great. Your offspring are from amongst all the members of humanity who choose to grow, transcend and self-actualize because your actions, your life and your story inspires them to be more.” All the major world religions trace themselves back to Avraham Avinu. Avraham was the flame which has kindled the oil of potential and godliness in so many. We, the Jewish people, the primary descendants of Avraham are small in number, but the influence of our patriarch is felt in every corner of this world.

We often assume that the path to life-greatness is paved with personal accomplishments. That the metric of our success is how much we are able to do, accrue and accomplish as individuals. But this is only partially true. We must grow, we must accomplish and we must achieve. However, we must remember that a life solely devoted to personal self-actualization is incomplete. Life cannot be exclusively dedicated to one’s personal growth and achievement. We must strive to be enablers and facilitators of the growth of others. We must look to see what we can each do to inspire and uplift those around us. Sometimes a kind word, a compliment, a few minutes (or hours) of our time, a few words of inspiration can be what it takes to motivate our fellow Jew to move forward in his/her life journey. If we can find the strength to be attentive to the difficulties and struggles of the other, lend a helping hand, dispense some words of encouragement, we can help another overcome their hurdles and become more.

With our family, our friends and our community – our job is to become Moshe Rabbeinu enablers of growth. We must each strive to be the flame that ignites the soulful, potential-rich oil of all those around us.

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Terumah 5778: The Eternal Message

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“V’asu Li Mikdash V’Shachanti B’Sochum, You shall make for me a Temple and I will dwell within you.” (Exodus 25:8)

With these simple words, God creates a new paradigm for religious worship. There would be a central address, with physical dimensions to create avenues of spiritual connection. And it was not just for the generation of the desert. In fact, God explains to Moshe: “According to all that I show you, the pattern of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and the pattern of all its vessels; and so, shall you do.” (Exodus 25:9) Rashi comments: “And so shall you do – for future generations as well.”

It seems as if Rashi is teaching us that the details and dimensions of the Mishkan and its utensils would be the same for all generations. The same plans and measurements for the Mishkan would ultimately be used for the Beis HaMikdash (Temple). However, we know this was not the case. When King Solomon built the Temple, the dimensions were dramatically different. If so, what message is Rashi seeking to convey? What is the message of the Mishkan for future generations?

The great Chassidic master, Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-1809) explains that the Mishkan was more than a gathering place for communal worship; it served as the physical embodiment of the most important theological and religious messages. Inside the confines of the Mishkan, the Jew was taught the true meaning of life and the path to establishing a meaningful relationship with the Divine.

Each utensil embodied a different life message. The Menorah represented the need to infuse one’s life with the light of Torah. The lessons of the Torah help us navigate the complexities of existence and illuminate the darkness which often enshrouds us. Torah is not simply a list of obligations and prohibitions. Through the mitzvos, God provides us with the moral and ethical clarity to navigate the tumultuous waters of life. The Shulchan (Table) represented the physical world and signified the need to sanctify and uplift the material. We need not eschew the material pleasures of life – but we must be vigilant to never lose ourselves in them. We must look at material wealth and possessions as vehicles to come closer to God and better serve our fellow man. The material world can be enjoyed as long as it lifts me closer to my Father above. The Lechem HaPanim (Show Bread) stayed fresh for an entire week after being placed on the Shulchan. This miracle taught us to appreciate God’s presence in our daily material lives. We must take nothing for granted; every breath and every dollar is a direct blessing from God. Our God-awareness must remain “fresh” as we journey through life. Just as God’s blessing was evident in each of the loaves, we must constantly look for His providence in our daily lives. The Mizbeyach (outer altar used for animal sacrifice) teaches us that we must be willing to share our material blessings with God and others. We do not toil for ourselves; we work and share the fruits of our success with others and in doing so allow God to share in our material success as well. We use our wealth to help and sustain others and to bring us closer to God. The Mizbeyach HaKitores (inner incense Altar) represents selfless giving. The incense was totally consumed on the altar (unlike animal sacrifices which often had portions for the owners and priests as mentioned above). Too often, we only do things for which there is reward, payoff, or some expected reciprocity. In life we must learn that if there is a beautiful opportunity to connect with God or to help another, we should seize it, simply because we can. We must strive to become selfless people. It is only after passing and absorbing the messages of these utensils that one could reach the Aron (Ark of the Covenant). The Ark represented the potential for a loving, passionate and intense relationship with God. On the lid of the Ark were two Keruvim (Cherubs) which according to some were in the image of a man and woman. They were locked in a loving embrace with their wings spread upward and toward one another. This embrace represents the love between God and his people. This love is what we strive for, what we pine for. We yearn each and every day to feel His passionate love and protective embrace. But to reach the Aron, one must first pass the Mizbeyach, Shulchan, Mizbeyach HaZahav and the Menorah. We can only feel the love, if we are willing to do the work. Additionally, in this most sacred spot, God reminds us to love one another. A passionate relationship with our Creator requires us to respect, honor and love each other. We have many differences but we must find a way to embrace.

This is the meaning of Rashi, “And so shall you do – for future generations as well.” Rashi is not referring to the physical dimensions of the Mishkan and its utensils. Rather, Rashi tells us that the message and meaning of the Mishkan and its utensils are perpetually relevant.

“V’Asu Li Mikdash V’Shachanti B’Sochum, Make for Me a Temple and I will dwell within you.” Although we currently lack the physical structures of a Mishkan and Beis HaMikdash, let us carry their eternal messages in the Temple of our hearts, in the Mishkan of our souls.

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Mishpatim 5778: Rejuvenation and Rehabilitation

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And these are the ordinances that you shall set before them. Should you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall work [for] six years, and in the seventh [year], he shall go out to freedom without charge (Exodus 21:1-2)

 It is in this week’s Parsha, Mishpatim that God provides the legal foundation upon which to build a moral and ethical society. We are taught how to deal with damages, poverty and finances. We are given the necessary instruction to cultivate a meaningful relationship between man and his fellow. Yet, God teaches us about the Eved Ivri, the Jewish servant, first. Why is this the first mitzvah in this section? What is the message contained in this law which sets the tone for that follows?

Rashi explains, there are two ways in which a Jew becomes a servant.  If he steals and isn’t able to pay back, the Beis Din (Jewish court) can sell the thief and use the proceeds to repay the victim. Or, mipnei dochko, if he is destitute. If a person has no money, no means of financial support, he can choose to sell himself into servitude.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe focuses on the Jew who has stolen and sold into servitude. The Rebbe builds on this concept and explains: the act of theft represents a moral failure. It is a trespass against a fellow human being. To take something from someone else, to deprive someone of something they have worked for, is a blatant disregard for the dignity of the other. But theft is not only a crime against man, it is also a crime against God. Each person is given a celestially ordained amount of material wealth. We are given what we need in order to accomplish our individual sacred mission in this world. When a person steals, he is making a dramatic statement, “God hasn’t given me enough. I will take that which belongs to the other, thereby enriching myself.” The act of theft violates the will of God, not only because theft is biblically forbidden, but because it is an indictment of God for having given something to someone else instead of oneself. Furthermore, the thief feels that he will retain that which he has stolen, even though this act was against the will of God. As such, the thief has transgressed against God and his fellow man. What should we do with this individual? Logic would dictate that we cast him aside, make a pariah of him and remove him from society. Yet, we do just the opposite. We give him a job and a place to live. His lifestyle must mirror his master’s. Whatever the master provides for his own family, he must provide for the servant. We say to this thief, “We will not give up on you. You have made some mistakes, but we still believe you can turn it around. It’s not too late. Use this time to rebuild and rehabilitate, use this time to introspect and reflect. Use this time to figure out what has gone so wrong and then find the courage to fix it.”

The Rebbe adds in one more piece. The laws of the Eved Ivri, are not just about the other – they are about each of us. Each of us messes up. We each make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes land us in significant trouble and life difficulty. When we feel we have stolen our potential and squandered it in a variety of fruitless initiatives and bad choices it is easy to give up.  But then we remind ourselves: the thief is sold and rehabilitates himself – we have the ability to do the same. There is an important point to remember: “Sheysh shanim ya’avod, u’ba’shviis yetzei l’chofshi, for six years you must work on the on the seventh you can go free.”  It can take a long time to turn yourself and your life around. It can take a long time to rehabilitate and rejuvenate. But if we are willing to put in the work – our 7th year will come. We can change, we can improve, we can become someone better.

The laws of the Eved Ivri, the Hebrew servant teach us these two valuable lessons; never stop believing in the other, never stop believing in yourself. No matter how badly my fellow messes up, he is never beyond salvation. No matter how severe our mistakes may be, if we work hard, we can rehabilitate and rejuvenate. God chooses to place the law of Eved Ivri first, for it create the foundational understanding for how we view the other and how we view ourselves.

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